


R&R

by Nesabj



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:08:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26800414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nesabj/pseuds/Nesabj
Summary: Kirk takes some R&R and finds it less than "restful"
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

_Captain’s personal log Stardate: 4226.5_

_In spite of my protests, and I’ll admit, some shameless pulling of rank, Dr. McCoy has ordered me to take a week of R &R. He claims that the physical and mental strains of dealing with the conflicts on Neural have left me exhausted and on the threshold of being unfit for command. _

_I would never admit it to him, but he may be right. My body is bruised and sore and although I think that I’ve managed to keep it from McCoy, I am troubled by a strange weakness._

_I know that I haven’t fooled Spock, though. Somehow he always seems to be able to sense when I’m in trouble. Lately, I catch him watching me when he thinks I won’t notice. It’s unsettling, but kind of reassuring. At least if I fall over on the bridge, I know that my first officer will be there to catch me._

_I keep going over our mission to Neural and wondering what I could have done differently. It isn’t like me to have second thoughts, but I can’t help questioning whether I made the right choice to arm Tyree. My sleep is troubled by nightmares. I dream of destruction and death for Tyree and his people. Maybe McCoy is right. Maybe a week on some quiet planet, away from the constant demands of the Enterprise will do me some good. I just wish that I didn’t feel so uneasy about leaving alone..._

_I realize that Mr. Spock must remain on the ship, in command during my absence, and I would never admit my uneasiness to McCoy. That would really give him grounds to poke around inside my head. So, I find myself off on my own to Semfon II for a little R &R. _

_I’ve always wanted to investigate the nature preserve on that planet. No communicators, no transporters, no technology of any kind, just nature in its purest state. I’m planning an easy week of camping and hiking to clear the cobwebs. The ship will be on a routine mapping mission in the sector for the week and will return to pick me up at the end of my leave._

“Ready when you are, Captain.”

Mr. Spock stood at the transporter controls, waiting for the signal to energize. He wanted to wish his friend a pleasant shore leave. He knew that the captain was in need of a rest. Spock had noticed the dark smudges under the captain’s eyes and the strained way he moved about the ship when he thought no one was looking. He could sense the enormous effort that the captain was expending in order to appear as if he was not troubled. It was easy to forget how much responsibility Jim Kirk carried on his sturdy shoulders until a situation like Neural occurred, and his crew was forced to watch him try to solve the insoluble.

Spock had even taken the unprecedented step of expressing his concerns to Dr. McCoy. McCoy had reassured him that Kirk had completely recovered from his ordeal with the Mugato. The captain’s difficulties were simply a result of being overstressed mentally and physically. A week of R&R on Semfon II was just what the doctor ordered. In fact, the Doctor had ordered it.

Just as Spock started to wonder at McCoy’s absence, the swish of the doors to the transporter room signaled his arrival.

“Couldn’t let you go without a send-off, Jim,” drawled the smiling McCoy. “I almost envy you your leave, but I still can’t understand why the blazes you picked this backwards dirtball for a vacation? It’s not really your style.”

“Let me remind you Bones, this R&R was your idea." Kirk smiled tiredly at his two friends. “I know that camping isn’t how either of you would spend your leave, but you know, right now I can’t think of anything I’d rather do.

Remember, I’m an Iowa farm boy at heart, even though these days I spend my most of my time wrapped in this magnificent cocoon of technology.”

The captain paused and when he continued softly, he almost seemed to be talking to himself.

“I treasure my life here, but.... The Enterprise thinks for us, she breathes for us, she protects us, she even fights for us. And even with all that technology, sometimes we still can’t fix things. I need to remember what it feels like to do some of those things for myself.”

Seeing the worried look on McCoy’s face he quickly added with a grin, “Relax Bones, after a week on Semfon II, I'll be itching to get home, probably literally. No showers, remember? Besides, how can anyone get into real trouble on a planet where you can’t even use a communicator, much less a weapon?”

“Captain” interrupted Spock, “Semfon II signals ready for your transport” “Energize, Mr. Spock, and see you both in a week. Happy mapping.”

The captain’s grin dissolved in a column of golden sparkles, leaving McCoy to think quietly to himself, “Trouble’s your middle name, Jim.”


	2. Chapter 2

As Kirk rematerialized he experienced that slight disorientation that signaled a successful transport. He was greeted by the sight of a blue humanoid with a shock of white hair, smiling at him. The Andorian technician motioned to him to step down and reached to help the captain with his pack.

"Welcome to the Semfon II nature preserve, Captain Kirk. I have signaled your safe arrival to the Enterprise. We are honored that you have chosen to visit us. I know that you’re familiar with the rules of the park, Captain and I’m sure that you haven’t packed any proscribed articles, so if you like, we can forgo the customary screening," the Andorian said.

"Thanks," replied the captain, "but I don’t want any special treatment. Please, go ahead and screen my gear."

The Andorian put Kirk’s knapsack on a conveyor belt, which moved it through a view screen. They both watched as the lights remained green, indicating that no weapons or communication devices had been transported to the planet. Semfon II forbade the use of any technology in the Preserve that would hinder the experience of its natural environment. The planet also had very high natural concentrations of several minerals that interfered with the functioning of most of those devices, making it ideal for the purposes of an environmental park.

“We’ve been having problems with poachers, Captain, so I’m really grateful for your cooperation,” said the tech in that whispery voice so common to his species. “In fact, we’ve been asking all our visitors to be particularly vigilant and to report anything that seems out of place in the park. Some of our rarest animals have been mysteriously disappearing. 

As you know, sensors and tricorders don’t work in the Preserve, so it is nearly impossible to track the poachers. We have to rely on eyewitnesses. I’m sure that you won’t encounter anything Captain, but if you do, please just observe and report your findings to the authorities. Don’t try to apprehend them. Poachers can be a ruthless lot and you will be unarmed.”

“Glad to oblige. All I’m looking for is a quiet week of R&R.”

“I wish you that quiet week, Captain. You should be quite alone in the Preserve. No one has checked in since the last party left yesterday. Have you any idea where you will be heading? Do you wish to leave a plan on file?”

Kirk smiled and shook his head. “A plan is the last thing I want. For the next week, I’m going to wander where my feet take me, and not think about anything more complicated than where to make camp.”

“Good luck and pleasant days,” replied the Andorian in the traditional salute of his people. 

He watched Captain Kirk slip into his pack and head out into the park. 

As Kirk began to walk, he could feel the tension and strain start to lift from him. He marveled at the beauty he saw before him. Nothing but virgin forest and some gentle rocky outcroppings stretched as far as his eyes could see. Though no clear trail was marked the walking was easy and Kirk just let himself wander through the fragrant forest. With fresh water and food, a soft bedroll and an antique book in his pack, he had everything he needed to camp in comfort. McCoy’s prescription felt just right. A week in the open air with no responsibilities would work the kinks out. The strange weakness that had been plaguing him since Neural was certainly going to vanish in the healing air of the Semfon preserve.

Kirk walked for nearly four hours, until the afternoon light began to dim. As he hiked he found himself catching occasional glimpses of the small herds of Semfon gazelles that the Preserve was noted for. They were shy, graceful animals that resembled their Earth counterparts, save for their glossy bluish fur that was highly prized by poachers. The captain found himself wondering how anyone could destroy such beauty but he pushed those thoughts away, determined not to let anything interfere with his enjoyment of this place.

Kirk walked until he felt pleasantly tired. He had no intention of pushing himself, so when he came upon a clearing near a wide stream, he decided to make camp. Enjoying the uncomplicated pleasure of looking after his own needs for a change, Kirk ate a simple meal, unrolled his bedroll and lay down to watch the stars begin to appear in the dusky sky. His eyes quickly grew heavy and the next thing he knew, the morning sun on his face told him that he had slept longer and better than he had since Neural. 

Luxuriating in the first real peace he had felt in some time, Kirk lay there for a while without stirring. The captain relished the fact that there was nowhere he had to be for the next six days. A swim in the stream next to his campsite was as far ahead as he was willing to plan. As he stripped off his shirt he noticed that the strange bruising that had begun on the ship was spreading down his left shoulder, but since he couldn’t think of anything that might have caused it, Kirk shrugged it off. After an easy swim in the stream and a light breakfast he broke camp. He carefully checked that he had left no trace of his stay at the campsite, swung his pack onto his back and started to hike further into the forest.

The next two days continued in much the same pattern. Kirk felt more rested than he had in quite a while. The nightmares that had plagued him since Neural had faded. He resolved to write a report to Starfleet urging that a mediation team return to the planet and attempt to get Tyree and Appella to sit down with one another. They had to try to resolve their differences. It would be difficult with the Klingon interference on the planet, but it was a better solution than the escalating warfare that had already resulted in many deaths. If it were not for that persistent weakness and the bruising on his shoulder, he would have felt completely at peace.


	3. Chapter 3

_First Officer’s Personal Log_

_Stardate: 4229.4_

_First Officer Spock in temporary command of the Enterprise. We are in the third and final day of our mapping assignment and will soon return to retrieve the Captain from his shore leave. All systems have functioned properly and I will be able to report to Captain Kirk that we have completed our task in a satisfactory manner. I find that the duties required of me while temporarily in command of the Enterprise have interfered with my ability to act as science office, however Mr. Chekov has performed those tasks more than adequately._

_In spite of the satisfactory performance of the ship and crew, I find myself strangely preoccupied. I am plagued by the apparently unwarranted thought that something is not functioning correctly on the ship. I have run sufficient diagnostics to be certain that my concerns are not justified. Perhaps they are simply a result of the absence of the Captain. His leave does result in a vacancy on the bridge. That could explain why I seem to find my thoughts straying to Semfon II. It disturbs me that he is there alone, although I can find no reason for this._

_I wonder if I should have accompanied the Captain on his R &R. If he had asked I would have gone willingly, however he indicated that it was necessary for me to remain on the ship. We shall retrieve him in 81.35 hours and I will gladly relinquish my temporary command to Captain Kirk._

Spock moved to switch off the log recorder when he heard the unlocked doors to his quarters swish open. He swiveled in his chair to see Dr. McCoy stalk into the room without announcing himself at the door.

“Spock, we’ve got to turn this ship around and pick up Jim right now!” he growled. McCoy’s body was taut with tension, but curiously his eyes refused to meet Spock’s.

“Doctor, as you know, we will be picking up the captain at the conclusion of our mission in approximately 81.345 hours.”

“Damnit, Spock, he may not have 81 point whatever hours.”

“Indeed” the first officer’s eyebrow disappeared beneath his hairline, “Explain.”

“I was checking the tissue samples that I took from Jim’s left shoulder, the one where the Mugato bit him. Not for any particular reason mind you, just to see if I could figure out how that cursed Mako root really worked, when I saw..." his voice dropped off as if he was afraid to put his findings into words.

“Saw what, Dr. McCoy? Report.”

“I’m sorry Spock,” McCoy replied in a low voice, “but the Mugato toxin, in a very virulent form, was all through Jim’s tissue sample. Damn, I can’t figure how I didn’t see this is possible. I checked Jim thoroughly. The toxin must have been masked by something in that damn root, but if we don’t get to Jim and soon, he could die. He had a pretty rough time on Neural and his immune system is weakened. If the poison is as toxic as I suspect, he could already be experiencing severe weakness and bruising on his left side.” McCoy’s voice trailed away.

Spock gazed at the doctor with such coldness that McCoy shuddered. In a voice that seemed to vibrate with iron control he rasped, “ Doctor, I fail to see how you could have missed the presence of the Mugato toxin in the captain. However, it would be illogical to dwell on what is past. We must now respond to the fact that Captain Kirk’s life may be in danger. You will return to sickbay and begin working on a correct treatment at once. I shall contact Semfon II and have them commence a search for Captain Kirk. We will break off our mapping work and return to the planet at best possible speed.”

“I hope that’s soon enough for Jim’s sake,” replied McCoy. As he turned to leave, he muttered under his breath, “and for us all.”

Spock barely registered the doctor’s exit from his quarters, as he signaled the bridge. 

“Lieutenant Uhura, the doctor has advised me that it is possible that Captain Kirk may be suffering from a relapse of the Mugato poison and might be incapacitated. As he is without a communication device on the Preserve, it will be necessary to search for him. Contact Starfleet and advise them that we are breaking off our mapping assignment and will be returning to Semfon II immediately. When you are done, contact the Semfon II preserve, and have them initiate a search for Captain Kirk. Underline the urgency of our request and indicate that we will be returning to the planet as soon as possible.”

Uhura’s worried face turned to the first officer through the comm screen. “Aye, Sir," was all she said, but her expression mirrored the concern that the entire bridge crew felt. Uhura snapped off the screen and prepared to contact Starfleet, but the image of their captain alone and ill and unable to call for help was a haunting one, and she could not shake a feeling of dread. 

The first officer briefly considered a return to the bridge, but settled instead for a call to the Chief Engineer. 

“Mr. Scott, this is Spock. We must return to Semfon II at once to pick up the captain who is ill. I will require all the speed that your engines are able to produce.” 

“Aye, sir. One of my lads was in Sickbay and I heard about the captain. You’ll have everything we’ve got, and a bit more.”

“Then, will you report to the bridge and take the conn, Mr. Scott? I find that I have other duties.”

Scott started to sputter in surprise that Spock would not be on the bridge at such a time, then he stopped and searched the rigidly controlled face looking back at him from the monitor and said, “Aye, Sir. I’ll be right up.” He realized that Spock’s other duties most likely consisted of not letting the crew see a crack in his stoic Vulcan control. 


	4. Chapter 4

On the morning of his fourth day on Semfon II, Jim Kirk woke with a throbbing headache. Although he had greatly enjoyed the beauty of his surroundings, he had to admit that he felt really unwell. The bruising on his shoulder had spread from his shoulder down his left side and he still felt that peculiar weakness that had plagued him since Neural. He might even agree to one of McCoy’s physicals to find out what was wrong. Kirk grinned to himself as he imagined the Doctor’s astonished face if he showed up for a physical without his customary resistance. 

As he started to prepare his breakfast, the Captain thought he heard the sound of thunder rumbling in the distance. That struck him as odd, since there was not a cloud in the sky. And unlike thunder, the rumbling seemed to grow oddly in intensity. His curiosity piqued, Kirk decided to investigate. He hurriedly finished his meal, packed up his belongings, and headed off in the direction of the puzzling noise. 

As he walked in the direction of the sound, he thought that he heard the screams of frightened animals above the din. Kirk realized that he might have stumbled onto the poachers that the Andorian tech at the gate had warned him about. He determined to get closer to make sure. 

The Captain considered his course of action, as the noise grew louder and louder. If in fact there were poachers ahead, he could try to catch them at their work, or more prudently, return to the gate to get help. Then, through a cloud of dust ahead of him, Kirk was able to make out three hazy figures in pursuit of a herd of frightened gazelles. The unmistakable crack of a propulsion rifle confirmed his suspicions as the Captain watched, sickened, as a wounded gazelle fell to the ground. 

Unarmed and unable to contact anyone for help, Kirk decided to watch the poachers to see if they made camp and then head back to the Preserve gate to warn the authorities. He smiled as he imagined Spock’s reaction to this atypically cautious plan. Kirk was also honest enough to admit that his weakened physical state had something to do with his decision not to charge in and try to catch the poachers himself. 

It was not too difficult to stay out of sight, since the trees screened the captain from view. He watched as the poachers dragged the downed animal to a pile of gazelles and began to skin it. Their disregard for life was chilling. Some of the animals were not yet dead and the noise of their screams revolted Kirk. As he continued to observe, it seemed clear that the poachers were planning to stay put for a while. Unaware that they were being watched, they went about their sordid business. 

Who knew how long they would stay at this site? He reminded himself that with no tracking devices on Semfon II, the poachers might be very difficult to find again if they left this location. Kirk realized that he was very near the rocky outcroppings that he had noticed when he entered the preserve. He decided to try to climb over the rocks. Kirk had avoided them in favor of the meandering path through forest, but now he knew that he did not have the luxury of the more level route.

The short hike through the forest was not too difficult, but as he began the climb Kirk could feel his strength fading rapidly. He realized grimly that he had very few options if he wanted the poachers to be caught. He had not encountered another being during his four days in the Preserve, nor according to the Andorian, should he expect to. The captain had no communicator, and no one knew where he was. He suspected that the poachers would leave no evidence of their deeds. He had to get to the gate quickly. Kirk wondered whether he had the strength to complete his task. 

As the captain climbed, the bruising on his shoulder became a continuous ache. Kirk felt short of breath, and each gasp was an agony. He struggled not to surrender to the pain, but his strength of will was not enough to compensate for the weakness of his body. Panting, he rested against a crag. He slid his pack to the ground. As he did so, Kirk knocked loose a large pile of rocks, which rolled down the path below him. The crash of the tumbling rocks seemed to echo in the quiet of the preserve. He cursed to himself and hoped that the poachers hadn’t heard the noise or seen the dust. A gray haze seemed to settle across his vision and he shook head to clear his eyes. Kirk struggled against the darkness that threatened to overwhelm him and his knees buckled. As he fought to remain conscious, the image of a steely cord formed in his mind. It was the last thought he had as he faded into blackness. 

The pain of his arms being bound tightly roused Kirk to agonizing consciousness. He tried to gather himself together to figure out what was happening, but all he could remember was climbing rocks, then blacking out. As his eyes flickered open, Kirk saw that he has lying on his side, hands tied in front of him. He looked into the faces of three very unpleasant looking beings. Two appeared to be human and the third one was Orion. There could be no mistake. His green skin marked him, but more than that, he broadcast a contempt for life that was so much a part of the Orion culture. They were the poachers Kirk had spotted earlier. 

“Well,” snarled one of the humans, a large, balding man of indeterminate age, “ I see our guest has finally decided to join us. You’ll be sorry that you did. And you’ll be even sorrier that you decided to spy on us.” A savage kick smashed into Kirk’s side. Stunned, he was unable to move. He concentrated on remaining conscious. 

“It’s a good thing we heard that rock-fall. You might have made it back to the gate and ruined our plans." Kirk braced for another kick when a second voice shouted, “Don’t damage him too much yet. He’s got to be able to walk, and I don't want to carry him. We can't leave him here. We’re too close to the gate. His body will be too easy to find. Right, Captain Kirk?”

Kirk swore to himself. He had hoped that the poachers wouldn’t discover his identity but they must have gone through his pack. That dashed any hope that he might have had a chance to talk his way out of this mess. Obviously, they wouldn’t believe that a Starfleet captain wasn’t going to turn them in, so he had to take another tack.

“I’ve been in contact with my ship. They know where I am, and they’re on their way,” he rasped, trying to sound more confident that he felt.

“Well, the good captain’s a liar, who’d have thought it? Our Andorian friend at the gate assured us, before we killed him, that no one in the preserve has a communicator. Your ship has no idea where you are and they probably never will. There’s no way to track you in here, tricorders don’t work, and without a communicator, there’s no signal to fix on to. Since we can’t leave any witnesses to identify us, you’re dead, Captain. It’s just a question of where and when. Now get up and let’s get going.” 

Another savage kick thudded into Kirk’s chest, pushing him onto his back. He felt hands yank him to his feet. He swayed dizzily, trying to clear his vision. 

“Get moving, Kirk.” 

Grimly, the captain evaluated his circumstances. The command disciplines were automatic, but even Kirk, who hated to ever consider defeat, was forced to conclude that his situation was desperate. The Andorian guard was dead, he had left no trace of his campsites behind for anyone to find, and his crew was probably days away from Semfon II. The Captain felt truly alone.

The two human poachers picked up piles of blue fur, slung them over their backs and started to move, roughly shoving Kirk in front of them. Kirk summoned his last remaining strength and began to walk. He was pretty sure that at least one rib had been broken by that last kick, but he was determined to hide that fact. He knew that if the poachers realized how weak their captive was, they might just kill him now. As long as he could stay alive, there was some small chance, however remote, that the Enterprise might find him.


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks to Mr. Scott’s “bairns” the Enterprise made excellent time on its return trip to Semfon II. During most of the nearly eleven hours that trip took, Spock’s feelings of unease increased. He concentrated on maintaining control by mentally calculating the time left until the ship obtained orbit. As he went over the figures for the twenty-third time, the intercom interrupted him.

“McCoy to Spock.”

“Spock here, Doctor. Have you succeeded in finding an effective anti-toxin?”

“Why else would I be calling you, Spock?” sputtered the Doctor. “It was a derivative of that Mako root after all. I just had to compensate for some Human blood factors that didn’t respond with the first treatment. If we can find Jim in time, there shouldn’t be any trouble curing him. Any word from Semfon II?”

“Nothing new, Doctor. The authorities still can’t locate the technician who was on duty when Captain Kirk arrived. There is no indication of where the captain intended to go, since it appears that he chose not to file a plan and, as you know sensors and tricorders are useless. They have sent out search parties, but without any direction there is little hope that they will successfully locate Captain Kirk.”

“Then how in the blazes will we be able to find him, Spock? We don’t even know if he’s still…” McCoy’s voice dropped off.

“I can reassure you of the Captain’s continued survival at this moment, Doctor.”

“How?” There was a pause as the Doctor considered Spock’s words. “Oh, I see. Well, let me know when we reach orbit. I’ll be ready to transport when you are. McCoy out.”

Spock felt a flash of gratitude that Doctor McCoy had decided not to pursue his question. He felt unable to handle a confrontation with the doctor. Spock needed McCoy’s willing assistance if they were to be successful in helping Captain Kirk. He knew that the idea of the captain sharing some kind of mental link with his first officer made McCoy uneasy, though it had saved both Kirk and Spock’s lives on several occasions. They were often able to sense when one or the other was in danger, but it was not something to be spoken of. Vulcan privacy modes and human reticence insured that the bond between them remained unspoken. But, Spock reflected, in retrospect it explained the strange uneasiness he had been experiencing. Kirk was clearly in trouble and their link was what Spock had been feeling. He vowed to explore the subject with the captain, if he had the opportunity. 

“Bridge to Mr. Spock, approaching Semfon II, Sir," the voice of the helmsman broke Spock’s train of thought. “Standard orbit in three minutes.”

“Very well, Mr. Sulu," Spock signaled back. “Mr. Scott, you will remain in command. Lieutenant Uhura, please notify Semfon II that Dr. McCoy and I will beam down to the preserve gate in 3.25 minutes. We wish begin our search immediately and would appreciate no delay.”

“Aye, sir. And Mr. Spock, good luck,” replied the communications officer, speaking for the entire bridge crew. Captain Kirk was more than their commanding officer, he was heart of the ship, and they knew that the Enterprise would not survive his loss intact. However, Uhura also knew that Spock would not rest until he had retrieved his friend at whatever cost. She found that thought to be a comfort.


	6. Chapter 6

After what seemed like an eternity of being hauled up the cliffs by the impatient poachers, Kirk stumbled again. He reached desperately for one more burst of strength, but his legs buckled and he sank to the rocky ground. He knew that he could go no further. He had no illusions as to the poachers’ intentions. His terrible weakness and the beating at the hands of the poachers combined to defeat Kirk’s attempt to mask his situation. He felt himself slipping away, and knew that when his kidnappers realized that he could no longer walk, they would kill him. As he collapsed, without thinking he cried out mentally, “Spock, help me.” But, he realized sadly, this time Spock would not be able to help him. He would die here, alone. 

As the captain fell, he landed on one of the piles of gazelle skins. A bluish tuft came loose in one of his bound hands. Kirk clutched at the fur to hide it from sight. He realized that if his crew found his body, it might be the only clue to what had happened to him. He knew that it would be important to his friends to know how he died. Perhaps they would even be able to track down the poachers by tracing the fur in his hand. The thought gave him some small comfort.

“Get up, you slacker.” the Orion snarled as he rammed his boot into the Captain’s throbbing left side. “What’s wrong with you? Starfleet Captains are supposed to be so tough. This is an easy climb for an Orion child.”

Kirk tried to answer, but his aching ribs prevented him from catching his breath. His captors stared at him with utter contempt. “Let’s just kill him here and get it over with,” the Orion said. “He’s slowing us down. If his ship is looking for him, they could catch up with us.”

“Kill me and my crew will never stop chasing you.” gasped Kirk. “My Vulcan first officer is very persistent. Just leave me here and maybe you’ll have a chance of getting away.”

“Shut up earther!” the enraged Orion screamed. “You’re a dead man.”

“You know, I think Kirk’s right. I’ve heard about Vulcans. They never give up," said one of the humans. “Let’s leave him here. He looks half dead anyway. I don’t want an angry Vulcan trailing me.”

“Half dead.... You’ve got something there. We don’t have to kill him. We’ll let the preserve do it for us.” The Orion laughed. It was a chilling sound. “See those loose rocks on the cliff overhead? Dislodge those and no one will find Captain Starfleet here, and if they do, it’ll look like he died in an accident. No one will think to go after us.”

Almost casually, the Orion picked up a rock and smashed Kirk on the head. The captain gasped as blinding pain radiated through his skull. Blood streamed down his forehead and clouded his vision as he struggled to remain conscious. Kirk felt no fear. He felt anger. Anger at the waste of dying for no purpose. Somehow he had always thought that his death would have been bought at a greater price. He thought of all the people he was leaving behind. A feeling of sadness overwhelmed him, as he knew that Spock would feel his death the most, and be able to express those feelings the least. As his awareness faded, his last thought was of his Vulcan friend and the strange image of a cord of unbreakable steel formed again in his mind. 

“He’s not dead yet, but he’s close enough,” said one of the poachers. “ Untie his arms. Might as well make it look good.”

The other human bent down and untied the limp and bleeding body of Captain Kirk. The Orion poacher climbed the rocky cliff and loosened the piles of rocks until enough of them had rolled down to completely cover the unconscious body below. There was no sign that the small, dusty rockslide hid a human clinging perilously to life.

“Goodbye, Captain Kirk,” smirked one of the Humans. “Starfleet wouldn’t be too happy to find out how easy it is to kill one of their captains. Come on, grab the skins and let’s get out of here.”


	7. Chapter 7

Spock was speaking to the Administrator of the Semfon Preserve about beginning their search for Captain Kirk by air-car, when he paled and started to sag. McCoy, who was standing next to him, was able to support him against a nearby desk.

“What is it Spock? Are you ill?”

“Jim,” whispered the Vulcan, “he’s dying. We’ve got to hurry.”

“But, Mr. Spock,” said the Administrator, “you don’t know where to look.”

“I do, sir. Let’s go, Doctor." Spock’s face took on a look of primitive ferocity that reminded McCoy of another moment they had shared. When the Vulcan had refused to leave Tholian space and had retrieved Jim at the last possible moment, his face had looked like that.

“You lead Spock. I’m with you.” Spock flashed McCoy a look of gratitude and ran to the waiting air-car. Spock had secured special permission to use the car in the preserve by threatening to protest to the president of the Federation if every avenue was not pursued to save the life of one of Starfleet’s most valuable captains. 

Spock drove with a single-minded concentration that McCoy had observed in him only a few times before. The toll that concentration took on the Vulcan was of concern to the doctor, but he realized that interference was not only futile, but possibly deadly for both Kirk and Spock. In some way that the doctor did not fully understand, the two friends were mentally linked and McCoy feared for Spock’s life if they did not succeed in reaching the captain in time. 

After nearly twenty minutes, Spock slowed the car and began to circle a rocky outcropping that appeared no different than those they had been traveling over. He lowered the car to the ground and bolted out, turning his head as if to see something that was not there.

“Doctor, I’ve lost the direction. I believe that the captain may be dead.”

Spock’s skin took on a most peculiar shade of green and he began to sway. McCoy hurled himself out of the car and supported his falling friend. 

“We are too late, Doctor.”

“ No. I won’t believe Jim’s dead, Spock. He’s too tough to die on a dirtball like this. You can’t just give up now. Jim would never give up on either one of us. Do something, dammit.” Fear made the doctor shout.

“I am at a loss, Dr. McCoy," responded the grieving Vulcan.

“What about that damned link you two share? I refuse to believe Jim’s gone. Try again, Spock,” he urged.

If only to placate the stubborn man standing before him, to get the doctor to leave him to his pain, he took McCoy’s face in his hand, searching for the meld points.

“I will try to meld with you and form an image of the captain with your mind. If he is still alive, perhaps the two of us together can still reach him.”

“I’m no esper, Spock. I don’t know what to do.” McCoy felt a shiver of terror run up his spine. He had a real fear of mental contact, even with someone like Spock, whom he trusted completely. But, if Jim died and Spock thought there was something that he could have done and refused.... McCoy nodded his consent. He tried to relax as Spock began the meld. At first there was nothing, just emptiness, but then at the very edge of his awareness the doctor felt Spock reaching out and the image of a slender steel cord formed in his mind.

“I think I have something, but I don’t know,” whispered McCoy. 

“You are correct, Doctor. The captain lives.” Spock sprinted off through a narrow crevasse in the cliff that McCoy had not noticed and ran in the direction of a pile of small boulders. He began to throw rocks off the pile like a man possessed. McCoy joined him and together they saw the outline of a limp and dusty hand.

“Jim!” 

McCoy and Spock hurled the remaining rocks off the unconscious body of their friend. McCoy had his scanner in his hand with no memory of reaching for it in his medikit. 

“He’s alive, but barely, Spock.” McCoy injected his captain with a hypo spray filled with the anti-toxin that he had readied before leaving the ship.

“He’s got a skull fracture and a broken left fibula. Two broken ribs, a punctured lung and his kidneys are badly bruised. What’s happened to him? These injuries are not just the result of the poison or the rockslide. He’s been beaten, but by who?”

Spock felt sickened as he listened to the list of injuries. “Will he live, Doctor?”

“I don’t know Spock. If he was healthy, none of these would kill him, but combined with the Mugato toxin... If he dies it will be my fault. I let him go off with the poison in his system”

“Your guilt is without foundation, Doctor. The toxin was masked, and if you had not helped me maintain my link with the captain, we would not have found him at all.” The Doctor looked at the Vulcan with silent gratitude in his eyes. He watched Spock cradle the captain’s unconscious body and marveled at the gentleness that Spock kept so tightly under control. 

“We’ve got to get Jim back to the ship now, Spock.” 

Spock nodded and quickly carried Kirk to the air-car. He noticed a small patch of bluish fur clenched in the captain’s fist but gave it little thought as he helped the doctor elevate Kirk’s legs to aide the blood flow to his damaged head. As the air-car rose, Spock banked it into a steep turn. Rapidly, he brought it level and as he did so, he saw three beings running in the opposite direction of the outcropping where they had found the captain. 

“Doctor, is Jim stable?” he asked.

“Just barely,” replied McCoy, who was working feverishly to stop the captain’s head wound from bleeding, “but I need to get him to Sickbay right now.”

“If he is stable then I must pursue the people fleeing below. They may be the poachers the Administrator told us about, and judging by their behavior they might also be the ones who did this to the captain.”

“Your duty is to Jim, Mr. Spock. If we don’t get him to the ship right now he could die,” shouted the outraged doctor.

“I am aware of my duty, Doctor. You attend to yours. Do whatever you can to keep Captain Kirk alive, for I must apprehend the poachers now. Clearly they are a danger. They may have attempted to murder the captain and could threaten others if we do not pursue them. I will be as expeditious as possible.

Spock pushed the sound of Kirk’s labored breathing out of his mind. What he desperately wanted was to get his injured friend to the Enterprise and to safety, but he could not. He focused on driving the air-car in pursuit of the poachers. Never before had he felt so divided by what he knew to be his duty and what he wanted from the bottom of his soul to do. 

Abruptly, Spock landed the car, jolting the captain badly. McCoy’s curse did not register as Spock leapt out of the car and faced the trio of poachers. Two of them were trying to stand in front of piles of blue fur as if to hide them from view. This was the same fur that Spock had seen clutched in Kirk’s unconscious hand. Blood pounded in the Vulcan’s head as he fought to control the waves of fury that threatened to overwhelm him. These monsters had nearly murdered the captain.

“I am Commander Spock of the starship Enterprise. I believe that you have illegally obtained those furs and are responsible for the injuries to my captain. You will surrender your contraband and come with me.”

The Orion laughed. It was a chilling sound. “You must be Kirk’s persistent Vulcan. What do you propose to do? There are three of us and only one of you. Kirk was no match for us and neither are you.”

Something inside Spock snapped. The image of Captain Kirk lying near death in the air-car was too much for his fraying Vulcan control. He leaped at the Orion and brought him down with such furious force that, had he been human, his neck would have broken. Spock ran down the other two poachers who were attempting to escape and swiftly rendered them unconscious. He moved like a man possessed, scarcely aware of his actions. Not until he dumped the three poachers into the cargo hold of the air-car along with the gazelle skins, did the Vulcan’s rage bank to a controllable state. As Spock climbed back into the car he was unaware of the awestruck gaze of the doctor; a gaze that was tinged with respect at the fury of a Vulcan unleashed.

The drive to the preserve gate was a near repeat of the desperate ride to find their friend. The two officers were all too aware of Kirk’s fragile hold on life. They drove out of the preserve, past the transporter shields and beamed immediately to the Enterprise. As they materialized in the transporter room, McCoy thought he heard Spock whisper, “We’re home Jim, you’re safe now.” Unshed tears stung McCoy’s eyes, but he ignored them as they rushed their friend to Sickbay. Spock had refused to surrender Kirk to a stretcher. He carried him into Sickbay and laid him gently on the diagnostic bed.

McCoy left to ready the operating room to try to repair the worst of the captain’s injuries, leaving Spock to watch over Kirk. Spock turned from the bed to request a report from the bridge when a faint whisper froze him in his tracks.

“Spock, you found me. How...?” whispered Kirk. 

It was impossible. No one with those injuries could be conscious, let alone able to speak. The shear force of his captain’s will to live gave Spock some small hope for the first time since they had found Kirk buried under the rocks.

“Hush, Jim, we’ll speak of this when you are well,” replied the Vulcan, his voice thick with controlled emotion.

“Now...please, I must know.” Kirk groaned softly and his eyes began to flutter.

“You called to me, Jim. I came to you because you called to me through a link.” Spock’s voice was low, pitched only for his captain’s ears.

“Spock, I thought I had dreamed that. I saw a kind of ...cord in my mind.”

Spock looked down at his friend, lying so desperately injured and considered how to answer. Was the captain strong enough to hear this? He had not been willing to talk about their link in the past. But, he had never run from the truth before and Spock trusted he would not run from it now.

“Jim it was not a dream. I believe that the cord is a symbol of the link between us. We have not spoken of this, but I am of the opinion that it began to form when I was on trial for kidnapping Captain Pike. You nearly lost everything, yet you stood by me as a brother would. As brothers, we began to forge a bond that can only be broken by death. That bond has strengthened each time we have melded. That is how I was able to find you on Semfon II. It is rare between Vulcans and unheard of between human and Vulcan. You are a rare human, my friend. Now you must rest and regain your strength. We will have time to speak again when you are well.” 

As Spock said those words he realized that they were true. Kirk would get well. The doctor and the Vulcan would see to that. And he and Jim would speak again of this.  
Kirk smiled at his friend and struggled to keep his eyes open. He wanted to tell Spock how much his friendship meant to him, how grateful he was that he had not left him to die alone, but as his vision faded, he realized that Spock already knew.


End file.
